I got drunk a couple nights ago. I got depressed. Not in that order.

Anyway, I wrote a blog post whilst in my imbibed state. Oops. That’s more dangerous than drinking and driving. Consider this your PSA for it.

So many personal messages have come in because of that post. Nice messages. Kind messages. Awesome and upbeat messages.

The truth is, you’re all so fucking awesome that I could puke/fart a rainbow out both ends of me right now, I’m sure of it.

“Keep your spirits up!”

“You’ll get through this!”

“My thoughts are with you.”

“You. Me. A lesbian I know named Herbie. Let’s all have an orgy and then make a suicide pact.” Okay, that one’s not true. But still… It kind of feels that way sometimes.

First of all, thank you for the messages and notes of encouragement. Sincerely. I fully acknowledge that it’s overly douchey of me to be annoyed that so many thoughtful notes came through. After all, you’re all amazing and awesome and supportive, and if I’m gonna get drunk and write something like that, I should just expect them to flow because of who you ARE.

That being said, do you wanna know one of my “blogger pet peeves?”

I have a hard moment, and the assumption is that I’m miserable all the fucking time.

But the thing is, I need to also tell you that I’m so NOT miserable. Good god, life is awesome. Life is so good, friends.


I’m laying in a FUCKING comfortable bed right now, in FUCKING comfortable sweatpants, with FUCKING comfortable bedding, staring up at a FUCKING leak-free roof over my head.

I’ve got clean FUCKING water running through FUCKING pipes that bring clean FUCKING water from the FUCKING mountains miles away.

I have a FUCKING washing machine and a FUCKING dishwasher. I don’t have to do that FUCKING stuff in the river outside of town.

I have a nice FUCKING car that I drive. No FUCKING problems with it whatsoever.

I have so many FUCKING things. Computers. Phones. Gadgets. Other fun FUCKING stuff.

I’ve got a FUCKING awesome business that I love. And it’s thriving right now.

I have plenty of FUCKING awesome friends who never stand me up and who are always there. I have plenty of FUDGING family members who are just as awesome, too. <<Please note that I used fudging in that sentence since half my family is still Mormon. Respect and shit.

Let’s see. What else…

My kid is FUCKING healthy. I’m FUCKING healthy. I haven’t had surgery on my asshole in more than a year. GO ME!

I also have the freedom to sit here and type the word FUCKING over and over and over without fear of my government reigning hell upon me. Really, I do. Watch.


I have so FUCKING much to be thankful for.

One of my favorite FUCKING things is that I have a brain that is pretty FUCKING awesome.

MY brain does all sorts of FUCKING nifty things for me.

MY brain knows the FUCKING difference between you’re and your.

MY brain is very FUCKING good at understanding humans.

MY brain is a FUCKING powerhouse when it comes to figuring out all the FUCKING problems that life inevitably brings.

Yeah, my brain really does rock.

And sometimes, every so often, my FUCKING brain also has a FUCKING glitch. And… I get sad.

It happens.

And when it happens, MY fucking awesome brain forgets for a brief moment just how good life really is.

BooFUCKINGhoo. I got stood up by some friends.

BooFUCKINGhoo. I didn’t have anyone to hang out with on a Friday night.

BooFUCKINGhoo. I ordered and ate an entire pizza all by myself.

I lied. It was two pizzas. But it took me that night and breakfast to pull off so I’m only kind of a giant slob oinker. Anyway…


Shit. That’s all I’ve got you guys. Life is so good, those few things are the extent of my complaints. And you know what? I think that statement bears repeating in all caps.


So, do me a favor. Never let me forget that.

If I ever get drunk and depressed and word vomit on you, reply all the nice things. It does make me feel better. But add a “PS. BooFUCKINGhoo.” to the end of your message. I’ll laugh, and smile, and get to my usual FUCKING awesome self more quickly. I promise.

Dan Pearce, The Dan Pearce Blog